THE CHESTNUT TREE.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 568, 4 December 1915, Page 3

THE CHESTNUT TREE.

Mother: Edna, look at your dirty hands, and I saw you wash them ouly half an hour ago.. Edna: Yes mamma, I just can't understand it, but your washing stays on ever so much longer than mine does. An Irish chauffeur in San Francisco, who had been having trouble with numerous small boys in the neighbourhood of his stand, discovered one day on examining his car that there was a dead cat on one of the seats. In his anger he was to throw the carcase into the street, when he espied a policeman. Holding up the carcase, he exclaimed: "This is how lam insulted. What am I to do with it?" "Well, don't you know! Take it straight to headquarters, and if it is "not claimed within a month it becomes your property." "NO; 1 haven't had but one case of tire puncture this winter." '' That's fine. When did it happen?'' "On the only day I took my car out.". - A passer-by stopped to admire the blooms in the flower garden where Louis was at work. "Do you do alt the digging yourself I" asked the stranger. " ' ' Oh, no,'' came the reply; "my garden is worked on two shifts. As soon as I knock off the chickens begin." All through the long serfnou little Johnny had been restless, and his mother had to keep pinching him in order to keep, him in anything like order. Still his fidgeting continued. "Can't you do something with that boy?" whispered the wife to her husband. '' Yes,' \ said the husband. "I second his motion to adjourn." Having been singing, in the gloaming for some time without getting a hand, the big mosquito alightecT on the fat man's neck and jabbed his stinger into the soft palpitating flesh. "Pardon me if I bore you,''he said. With a well-directed slap the man retaliated, remarking casually,'' How does that strike you?" "James, dear, why don't you play with that little boy across the-street?" «' Aw, he's drivin' a last year 's pushr mobile." '' Are you going to rusticate this summer, Mrs Comeup?" "Of course, we're not going to rust any way. We are going to take,a handsome country place to shine." ' Sufferer (in crowded car after some minutes): Er—have you by an chance an engagement to meet somebody here on my feet? • She put a rubber band about his middle finger; "Now, 'yqu won't forget it," she said. . , "Kh! Forget what?" '/Forget to mail the letter I'm going to write." . ■'■ "Skinner boasts that he. never lets anybody get ahead df him —that he takes nobody's dust." '' Skinner's a (falsifier; he, takes, everybody 's dust he can lay his hands on." Hobson (at club reception): Say, who is that man over there? He's been standing around with his hands in his pockets all evening, and not a soul has noticed him. Dobson: I guess he must be a guest of the club. "Miss Gadders seems to be putting her soul into the music she is playing.'' "Nonsense. She's merely putting her feet in it." "What do you mean?'' "Don't you see she's operating a piano-player?" Just as the young man raised his hat in fesponse to a bow and a smile from the beautiful girl who was passing by his foot struck a banana peel and flew out from under him. He landed on the back of his neck, his hat flying in one direction, and his cane in another. "Are you hurt?" asked a friendly policeman, as the victim of the accident sat up and began to swear volubly. "Hurt?" he exclaimed. "No, I'm not hurt. I'm dead sore, that's what I am. That fathead camera man across the street forget to turn the handle, and now I've got to do that fall over again."

Then the policeman realised that he had been privileged to see a moving picture comedy in the making.

A minister's wife, a doctor's wife, and a travelling man's wife met one day, and were talking about the forgetfulness of their husbands. The minister's wife thought her husband was the most forgetful man living, because he would go to church and forget his notes, and no one could make out what he was trying to preach about. * v The doctor's wife thought her husband was the most forgetful, for he would often start out to see a patient and forget his medicine-case, and,, therefore, travel miles for nothing. "Well," said the travelling man's wife, '' my husband beats that. He came home the other day, and patted me on the cheek, and said: 'I believe I have seen you before, little girl. What is your name?"

The Minister: I suppose you know, Robert, that man does not live by bread alone?

Robert: Oh, yes, sir; but, then, we don't get any such blow-out as this except when you come.

"When I was a boy," said Mr Cumrox, '' my father used to reprove me for reading cheap novels." "It was meant for the best." " But a person ought to get beyond that sort of discipline sometimes. Now my daughters reprove me for wanting to see all the moving pictures.' -'

"My soldiers are fighting men," said the Captain striking a moving-picture

pose. "They will never be content to dig trenches." '' That's all right,'' responded the General. "I have no objection to them taking some intrenehments away fromj the enemy to pass the winter in." "Honesty is the best policy," said! the ready-made philosopher. "Of course it is," replied Mr Dustin Stax. "But the public doesn't always realise it. Most people would rather be cheated a little in an affable way than do business with a person whose! conscience keeps him in a state of irritation. " "Pardon me, sir," suavely said the passenger who wished to borrow one for a few moments, "but, have you a fountain pen?" "Naw!" replied the grouchy traveller. "I live next door .to a public school; that's what makes me look so savage." The Tombstone Man (after several abortive suggestions): How would simply, 'Gone Home' do? Mrs Newweeds: I guess that would be all right. It was always the last place he ever thought of going. As the fair graduates of a business college sat in their white gowns on the platform-—a charming picture—a rosebud garden of girls, as Tennyson puts it —a gentleman asked the college president: "And do your young lady graduates prove, as a rule—er —efficient?" "Efficient? . Humph. No less, than 82 per cent., sir," the president answered, "marry their employers the first year." Customer: Look here; these weren't fast colours in this shirt you sold me. Salesman: So I-see; but yo-u ought to be satisfied. Customer: Whyjso? Salesman: You' got a run for your money. W'Mr Eedink," said the boss severely, got off yesterday afternoon under the plea of being sick. >I saw you afterward going to the races, and you didn't appear to be at all sick." Mr. Eedink was fully equal to the occasion., "You ought to have seen me after the second race, sir," he said; "Look here," said the office seeker, ' ' the platform you are funning on is full of rotten planks." "Maybe it is," replied his rival, placidly, "but I'm light on my feet, and I'll take precious good care not to step on one of those rotten planks." Willy: We've got a new Sunday school teacher, and I don't like him. Father: Why so, my son? Willy: He's Mr Carver, the butcher, and he talked shop all afternoon. . Father (surprised): Talked shop! What do you mean? Willy: Why, he talked all about killing the fatted calf, and led like a lamb to slaughter. , More debts?" cried the irate father. "Why, when I was your age I didn't owe a penny to any man." "That was tough luck, father," said the son sympathetically. "Couldn't you get.anyone; yo,u ?' ■' A workman, endeavouring"" to explain to one of his mate's what a phenomenon was, made the following attempt: — ' j "It's like this. Supposing you were; to go out into the country and see a field of thistles growing." V'Yes," assenieu his friend. '' Well, that would be a phenomenon! " "No, that's quite clear," agreed the other man.^ "But suppose you were to see a lark singing away in the sky." "Yes." "Well, that would not be a phenomenon! " .-.,,..'..* '' No, that also seems clear.' ■ t "But imagine there is a bull in the field." ' , "Yes," his friend could imagine that. '' Even that would not be a phenomenon! " "But, now, Bill, look here. Suppose you saw that bull sitting on them thistles whistling like a lark —well, that would be a phenomenon! "